Spinning
by shakyhands
Summary: This is my first Rentfic attempt. It is a short angsty M/R. Rated R for language. Please Review!


This was my first attempt Rentfic, so be kind if it is horrible. Reviews will make me smile.  
None of the characters are mine.  
Why is everything spinning? The room won't stand still, and I wish it would just stop. I need for it to stop. Just for a minute. One minute. That's all that I need. One minute for the world to stop spinning around me so that I can focus, but it's not stopping.   
  
How could this have happened? It couldn't have, it didn't. That's it. It didn't really happen. I must have just dreamt it. Dammit, I had to have just dreamt it, because this cannot be happening to me. Stuff like this only happens to other people, it doesn't happen to me. It was a dream. I know that it was, but then why am I so afraid to open my eyes? I will just open them and the familiar sight of the empty loft will appear. I know that's what I will see. That is what I have to see, because if I open my eyes and she is still standing in front of me crying, I don't think I will be able to stop myself from throwing up.  
  
Everything is still spinning. Why won't it just stop? This isn't fair. I shouldn't let a dream affect me this way. I'm too smart for this. Of course it is a dream, but then why do I still feel so dizzy? I'm going to throw up. My stomach is churning and I still can't stop the spinning.  
  
I can be quiet, really quiet. I won't speak, I won't move, I won't even breathe. Just don't let this be real.   
  
Please God, even though I know I've never done anything for you, don't do this to me. Don't let this be real. Don't ruin my life.   
  
I take a deep breath as I open my eyes, but I still can't see anything; my vision is blurred. I don't remember when my tears started, but now I can feel them on my cheeks, those stupid marks of my shame burning my flesh as they travel down. Why am I so weak? Men shouldn't cry. I should be able to control myself, but right now I realize that I have absolutely no control.   
  
Through my tears, I can make out the form of her frame, shaking from her sobs.   
  
Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her.  
  
She didn't love him. She didn't know what true love was. She couldn't have possible pushed aside her selfishness to actually love another person. Sure, they had some good times. He had loved her, but she never gave a shit for him. She just used him to make herself feel better. Fuck her.  
  
How could this have happened? How could this have happened to me?  
  
I loved him. We should have been together. We would have been so happy, but I couldn't push my damn pride aside. I knew how he felt. I always saw the way he would look at me when he thought no one was watching. He has the clearest blue eyes I had ever seen, and those eyes would stare at me, for hours on end. I always knew, but was too afraid to return his stare. He was so beautiful, and I was afraid of what could have happened. I had never let myself become completely attached. Sure I had girlfriends and even loved them, but I had never let anyone completely claim my heart.   
  
He was different. If I would have let him, my entire heart would have been his, but my stupid fucking pride held me back.   
  
I can't believe what an idiot I am. I knew he was sick and didn't have much time left, but I still ran away. He told me everything I always knew he felt, and in a way everything I ever wanted to hear, but I ran away. I'm such a fucking idiot. The only person who could ever truly love me, and I ran away because of my damn pride.  
  
And now he is gone. Holy shit. He is actually gone.  
  
Holy shit.  
  
Her head tilts up towards me, making me realize that I let that last "holy shit" slip out of my mouth. She looks absolutely pathetic; tears streaming down her face, make-up running, and her entire body shaking from the power of her sobs. Fuck her.   
  
She reaches out her arm and puts it on my shoulder, attempting to hug me, but my body tenses immediately. I guess she figured that my speaking meant I was ready to handle reality again, but I cannot handle any physical contact right now. Why can't she understand that? My best friend, the love of my life, my soul mate, is gone forever, and she wants me to comfort her? That is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard in my life, and an evil-sounding chuckle escapes my lips as I push her away.  
  
She stumbles backwards and then looks up at me. How can she have that much pain in her eyes? No matter how great an actress you are, nobody can control the look in his or her eyes, and it hits me for a second that she is upset, but fuck her.  
  
Why does she get to be the upset one? Am I supposed to feel bad for her now?   
  
I try to open my mouth to yell at her, but a whispered "fuck you" is all that I can say.  
"Fuck you," I whisper again. "Just fuck you."  
  
I know she is gonna say something. She always knows just what to say to make me even more upset. I'm waiting for her to open her mouth, almost wishing that she would say something bitchy so that I can really yell at her. Yell, scream, and shout. Anything that will take my mind away from the real reason my head is spinning.   
  
Why isn't she saying anything?   
  
She always has something to say.  
  
I see her mouth open as she attempts to get something out, but nothing happens.   
Finally she opens her mouth and says the words she has been waiting to release.   
  
"He is gone honey. Nothing we can do will make him come back. He's ... he's... oh god, he's dead. He's dead Mark, and nothing we can do will make him come back. So don't get mad at me because you can't deal."  
  
Fuck her. Why does she have to make sense? Why can't she just be a bitch? Then it would be so easy to be mad at her. She has to be so fucking perfect. She can't have one fucking thing wrong with her.  
  
"Fuck you. How do you know what I'm feeling? Don't stand there and pretend that you understand what I feel right now Mimi. Just... just... just FUCK YOU."  
  
The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. I know that I'm hurting her, but I don't care. My own pain is all I can deal with at the moment.  
  
She looks up at me with those eyes again. Those damn eyes. I always thought he was just being poetic when he talked about her eyes, but her eyes are the most powerful things I have ever seen. I can't believe the amount of pain I see.   
  
Maybe she did love him.  
  
Fuck her. Her and her damn eyes. She is making me feel bad for her. I'm not gonna feel bad. I'm the one with the pain. It's my life that was just ruined.  
  
I can't stand to see those damn eyes anymore. I turn blindly and run to my room, slamming the door behind me. In here I can forget everything else. I can just sit here and wait for him to come home. He can't be gone. He can't really be... be dead.  
  
I just have to be really quiet and wait for him to come home. He will come. He has to come home.  
  
I love him. There, I said it. I love him. I, Mark Cohen, love Roger Davis, but now I'll never be able to tell him. 


End file.
